Bronze Steers

There is that very well known giant sculpture of a bigger-than-life cattle drive in downtown Dallas. You know the one – the one with all the tourists taking photographs.

But those aren’t the only bronze steers in the Metroplex. Out in Frisco, in a sort-of-hard-to-find spot called Central Park, they have a few put in.

Bronze cattle drive, Central Park, Frisco, Texas

Bronze cattle drive, Central Park, Frisco, Texas

The stone is strong, but the bronze is stronger. The cattle burst through the rocks piled into a wall – they explode with power – an irresistible force meets a strong, yet moveable object.

But at the moment they escape the stockade – exactly when they erupt into freedom… they are frozen. Suddenly motionless in space, trapped in static time – helpless. For what better prison than the polished and tranquil passage of silent, lifeless time. Time passed is more powerful than any corral of stone, the only inescapable confinement.

Like the bronze steers we are all given an eternal sentence in the slammer of time, trapped in a single moment, the eternal present.

Astral Flower

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez, Dallas, Texas

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez, Dallas, Texas

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez

There is something special about downtown parks. The tiny bits of public green carved out of the pavement become precious jewels cast about the vast three dimensional expanse of office buildings. The few trees struggling for their share of light and water become alien creatures of wonder – flecks of forest, transplanted.

When I first moved to Dallas in the early 1980’s and was working down in the Kirby Building there was Thanksgiving Square – a carefully created triangle of grass and water in the heart of the business district. One of my favorite things was to eat lunch in the square on a sunny spring day… there was a greasy take out Chinese place in the underground – Mr. Kim’s Eggroll. This was a branch of the better known, almost infamous, Texaco Lunch Box out on Ross avenue. I won’t say the food was good… but it has good memories.

From a 1984 Newspaper Article, in The Victoria Advocate, “In Praise of the Immigrant,” by William Murchison.

My own favorite immigrant is Mr. Kim, a South Korean. He came to Dallas in the late 70’s, legally, I should point out, worked hard at a convenience store, saved most of what he earned and established an eggroll joint across the street from the courthouse. In those days I patronized him with some frequency.

But Mr. Kim wasn’t sure he couldn’t do better elsewhere. A short time later he opened the inimitable Texaco Lunch Box on Ross Avenue. The Lunch Box sells gasoline and marvelous egg rolls, whichever or both. From the start it prospered, owing partly to Mr. Kim’s ebullient, somewhat wacky, personality, partly to a quality product. Mr Kim always had a cheery smile and a few quips for his customers. To my children he commonly would hand out an extra fortune cookie, sometimes even a can of Coke.

One place wasn’t enough, so Mr Kim opened more, staffing them all, as far as I am aware, with fellow Korean immigrants. A devout Presbyterian who plasters Christian slogans on his wall, Mr. Kim also set up bible study classes for Koreans. Many were the times I’d go by the Lunch Box and ask for him, only to be told, “He’s teaching bible class.”

One of Mr. Kim’s outlets is downtown, more or less underneath Thanksgiving Square. That is where I now catch him when he isn’t teaching the bible or helping some Korean family.

I was glad to find that article – I hadn’t thought about Kim’s Eggroll for a long time and was glad to find out my memories (I remember the eccentric man and the religious tracts taped to the wall… as well as the taste of the greasy rolls and sweet sauce) were real and not some remnant of a fever dream.

Kim’s Eggroll and the Texaco Lunch Box are long gone. In addition to some legal adventures, Mr. Kim seems to have been involved in the local restaurants Wok & Roll, which I have eaten at too.

In the decades since, Thanksgiving Square is getting long in the tooth, but the city has carved out some more parks – more ambitious and more contemporary. There is the big trinity of Main Street Garden Park, Belo Garden Park, and of course, the crown jewel, Klyde Warren. There are also a handful of smaller place, some of them really nice, like Lubben Plaza… (I’m going to have to go downtown and shoot some pocket parks… aren’t I).

And there are more in the works.

One of the biggest proposed projects is Pacific Plaza Park. This would join together a number of small parks and desolate parking lots into one of the largest remaining open areas in the City’s Center. It’s been delayed and delayed and I hope they get going and get the thing built while I’m still alive.

One concern, though. Right in the middle of the proposed park, is an old, forgotten park that used to have a fountain with an old, forgotten sculpture. If you live in Dallas, you’ve driven by it a million times, and even though it’s pretty darn big you’ve never seen it. I, however, ride a bicycle, and I notice things like this.

It’s called Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez. It was placed in the Pacific Plaza “Vest Pocket Park” in 1968 by Junior League Garden Club. The tiny park was developed by the Greater Dallas Board of Realtors along with the City Parks & Recreational Department.

I hope they preserve this little bit of history. In Dallas, history is as scarce as green space downtown.

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez (click to enlarge)

Astral Flower, by Jose Luis Sanchez
(click to enlarge)

A Conversation

Damian Priour, Austin Temple (detail) 2000 fossil limestone, glass, steel In Memory of Buddy Langston 1947-2004 Frisco, Texas

Damian Priour, Austin
Temple (detail)
2000 fossil limestone, glass, steel
In Memory of Buddy Langston 1947-2004
Frisco, Texas

Life consists of making the decision of what you are going to do in the next split second. Nothing else exists other than the process of making that decision and executing it. Everything else is an illusion.

What if I make the wrong choice? What if I choose something that limits my future choices? What if I paint myself into a corner?

I didn’t say it was easy. I didn’t say it was a good thing. All I said is that that is all there is.

I thought that life was pain! I thought that life was suffering!

It is. Pain is choice. It is. Choice is suffering.

But if choice is all there is… and I can choose whatever I want – then I am totally free.

Choice is freedom. Total choice is total freedom. Freedom is all there is.

So I am totally free.

Yes – but if life is pain and suffering and choice is also freedom – then life is freedom.
But freedom is pain and suffering.

Freedom is suffering?

Yes.

I get it.

Yes, you do.

Growing

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
― Anaïs Nin

Andrew Rogers, Australia
Growing
1999
Frisco, Texas

You’ve got to work hard! There’s no substitute for hard work, it doesn’t happen by itself. I think about art seven days a week, 24 hours a day. I work really hard. That’s the only way you get the work done!
—-Andrew Rogers

Andrew Rogers, Growing, Frisco, Texas

Andrew Rogers, Growing, Frisco, Texas

“Dear God,” she prayed, “let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry…have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere – be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.”
― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Andrew Rogers, Growing, Frisco, Texas

Andrew Rogers, Growing, Frisco, Texas

“Most people don’t grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.”
― Maya Angelou

“When a child first catches adults out — when it first walks into his grave little head that adults do not always have divine intelligence, that their judgments are not always wise, their thinking true, their sentences just — his world falls into panic desolation. The gods are fallen and all safety gone. And there is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter or sink deeply into green muck. It is a tedious job to build them up again; they never quite shine. And the child’s world is never quite whole again. It is an aching kind of growing.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“He stood at the window of the empty cafe and watched the activites in the square and he said that it was good that God kept the truths of life from the young as they were starting out or else they’d have no heart to start at all.”
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

“The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Travelling Man – in paint and pixels

Grafitti in the Dallas Art Park, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Graffiti in the Dallas Art Park, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

The Travelling Man Sculptures have become an instant icon in Deep Ellum.

Painting at the entrance to the Urban Gardens, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Painting at the entrance to the Urban Gardens, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Up with the sun, gone with the wind
She always said I was lazy
Leavin’ my home, leavin’ my friends
Runnin’ when things get too crazy
Out to the road, out ‘neath the stars
Feelin’ the breeze, passin’ the cars

traveling_man_wallking_tall

Women have come, women have gone
Everyone tryin’ to cage me
Oh, some were so sweet, I barely got free
Others they only enrage me
Sometimes at night, I see their faces
I feel the traces they’ve left on my soul
Those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul

traveling_man_guitar

Sometimes at night, I see their faces
I feel the traces they’ve left on my soul
But those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul
I tell you those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul
Travelin’ man, yea
—-Bob Segar, Travelin’ Man

walking_tall

Click on any of the photographs for larger versions on Flickr.

I’ll always remember when I went down there and took these. In particular I remember walking backward looking through the viewfinder, tilted up at the tall sculpture looming overhead. Do you see that little green step by the sculpture’s feet?

I didn’t.

You don’t forget those kind of falls.

waiting_for_the_train

I’m Dancing As Fast As I Can

“Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sakes. Now, I mean, I’m talking about singing in the shower, I’m talking about dancing to the radio, I’m talking about writing a poem to a friend–a lousy poem.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

“The sacred sense of beyond, of timelessness, of a world which had an eternal value and the substance of which was divine had been given back to me today by this friend of mine who taught me dancing.”
― Hermann Hesse

“The funny thing about writing is that whether you’re doing well or doing it poorly, it looks the exact same. That’s actually one of the main ways that writing is different from ballet dancing.”
― John Green

dance1a

“Life is the dancer and you are the floor.”
― Armando Vitalis, No Reason to Get Out of Bed – A Murderous Mystery

“We danced in the handkerchief-big space between the speak-easy tables, in which stood the plates of half-eaten spaghetti or chicken bones and the bottles of Dago red. For about five minutes the dancing had some value in itself, then it became very much like acting out some complicated and portentous business in a dream which seems to have a meaning but whose meaning you can’t figure out. Then the music was over, and stopping dancing was like waking up from the dream, being glad to wake up and escape and yet distressed because now you won’t ever know what it had been all about.”
― Robert Penn Warren, All the King’s Men

“there is no new experience in life. something may happen to you that you think has never happened before, that you think is brand new, but you are mistaken. you have only to see or smell or hear or feel a certain something and you will discover that this experience you thought was new has happened before.”
― Horace McCoy, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

Cadillac Ranch

Well there she sits buddy just a-gleaming in the sun
There to greet a working man when his day is done
I’m gonna pack my pa and I’m gonna pack my aunt
I’m gonna take them down to the Cadillac Ranch
Eldorado fins, whitewalls and skirts
Rides just like a little bit of heaven here on earth
Well buddy when I die throw my body in the back
And drive me to the junkyard in my Cadillac
—Bruce Springsteen, Cadillac Ranch

Cadillac Ranch, is west of Amarillo, Texas. I’ve stopped there a few times, mostly on the way back home from Santa Fe. It is an odd place – a modern American Icon of the New West.

Dallas Art Park, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Dallas Art Park, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Cadillac Ranch, West of Amarillo, Texas

Cadillac Ranch, West of Amarillo, Texas

Googlemap View

Cadillac Ranch

A crude little sketch I did in watercolor pencil on a postcard at the Cadillac Ranch west of Amarillo.

Cadillac Ranch - Old Guys Rule

Old Guys Rule

Cadillac Ranch

Cadillac Ranch

Arch

Brent’s Arch
Harry Gordon, 1992
Frisco, Texas

Brent's Arch Harry Gordon Frisco, Texas

Brent’s Arch
Harry Gordon
Frisco, Texas

Background – Mountain Landscape with an Approaching Storm, Claude-Joseph Vernet, Dallas Museum of Art

Proverb

Proverb” by Mark di Suvero, Arts District, Dallas, Texas

It’s behind the Meyerson, visible from Klyde Warren Park. If you’re curious, it’s here.

“A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush, he told her, to which she retorted that a proverb was the last refuge of the mentally destitute.”
― W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil

Proverb, by Mark di Suvero, and Southwest Airlines Jet, on approach to Love Field

Proverb, by Mark di Suvero, and Southwest Airlines Jet, on approach to Love Field

“People who count their chickens before they are hatched act very wisely because chickens run about so absurdly that it’s impossible to count them accurately.”
― Oscar Wilde

Proverb, by Mark di Suvero

Proverb, by Mark di Suvero

“Three things are too wonderful for me;
 four I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky,

the way of a serpent on a rock,

the way of a ship on the high seas,

and the way of a man with a maiden.”
― Anonymous, Holy Bible: King James Version

Cisco and Generac in Frisco

“I am somewhat exhausted; I wonder how a battery feels when it pours electricity into a non-conductor?”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure Of The Dying Detective

Sculpture by Mac Whitney, Cisco
Emergency Generator by Generac
Frisco, Texas

“One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It’s simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we’ve been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.”
― Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark

Cicso, by Mac Whitney, Frisco, Texas

Cicso, by Mac Whitney, Frisco, Texas

“Invention is the most important product of man’s creative brain. The ultimate purpose is the complete mastery of mind over the material world, the harnessing of human nature to human needs.”
― Nikola Tesla, My Inventions

Cisco, by Mac Whitney, Frisco, Texas

Cisco, by Mac Whitney, Frisco, Texas

“Is it a fact – or have I dreamt it – that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?”
― Nathaniel Hawthorne